Ficlet: Teaparty in the garden (Mrs Lynde, Gilbert) for Atropos87
I have written Anne of Green Gables fanfiction! Which actually makes sense, because the first fanfic I ever wrote was based on LM Montgomery's books, long before I'd ever heard of fanfic or the internet.
This is for atropos87, who I hope hasn't left us forever, because she is missed.
Title: Teaparty in the garden
Characters: Mrs Lynde, Gilbert (also Marilla, Anne and Walter)
Summary: Mrs Lynde and Marilla watch Anne and Gilbert playing with their children
Warnings: Unashamed fluff, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I had a huge smile on my face as I wrote this! Timing possibly not canon-compliant in regard to certain births and deaths.
Wordcount: approx. 450
Notes: Written for atropos87. Hope you enjoy!
"That Gilbert - he always was a scamp," pronounced Mrs Rachel Lynde, placing her teacup decisively back on the tray. "No, Marilla, I mustn't have another of those cookies, although they're delicious... ah, Dora made them, did she?" She plucked one from the plate and took a handsome bite.
"Do you remember that incident with Obadiah McLeary's cow? Of course, that was before Anne arrived - I always thought she settled him down good and hard from the moment they met. One of them instant things - love at first sight, those romantic young ones call it these days, but it wasn't anything so flighty if you ask me." Mrs Lynde nodded vigorously. "Oh, I know Anne had her own ideas, but she was fooling herself all along, wasn't she? Just needed to go to college and feel she'd had a try at the high life, that was all, and then she was happy to go with our Gilbert. He never wavered, of course. He knew his mind from the first. Like his father, that one."
She met Marilla's glare with a knowing look, and rocked back in her chair, surveying the scene in the garden with satisfaction. "Well, I'm blessed if the pair of them don't look even more in love than they did when they was courting. And sillier, too."
In the garden, Gilbert was thinking how beautiful Anne looked with her hair swathed around her like the autumn sunsets over Ingleside. His concentration only lapsed for a second, but it was enough: thin hands pelted into his ribs, and a high voice proclaimed, "You're It!"
The boy, mobile features recalling his mother despite the dark hair, was giggling at the other end of the garden by the time Gilbert turned around.
"I'll have my revenge for that, young Walter," he called and set off in pursuit. As he grabbed fruitlessly, dodging first one way and then the other around Anne in an attempt to reach his son, he reflected that he really was getting too old for this kind of thing.
"Father!" protested Walter, "you can tag Mother, too, you know."
"Mother isn't pl-" began Anne, but the rest of her words were smothered by Gilbert's tackle. They landed on the grass with inelegant grunts and lay there, limbs entangled, smiles pushing up the corners of their lips and belying Anne's stern, "Gilbert!"
"My beautiful wife," he murmured into her mouth, before scrambling to his knees and helping her upright.
The delighted laughter of the children reached the parlour, where Marilla, with a small smile, began setting aside biscuits. Mrs Lynde crunched the rest of her cookie and reached for another one. "I always said he was a scamp," she said with satisfaction.
This is for atropos87, who I hope hasn't left us forever, because she is missed.
Title: Teaparty in the garden
Characters: Mrs Lynde, Gilbert (also Marilla, Anne and Walter)
Summary: Mrs Lynde and Marilla watch Anne and Gilbert playing with their children
Warnings: Unashamed fluff, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I had a huge smile on my face as I wrote this! Timing possibly not canon-compliant in regard to certain births and deaths.
Wordcount: approx. 450
Notes: Written for atropos87. Hope you enjoy!
"That Gilbert - he always was a scamp," pronounced Mrs Rachel Lynde, placing her teacup decisively back on the tray. "No, Marilla, I mustn't have another of those cookies, although they're delicious... ah, Dora made them, did she?" She plucked one from the plate and took a handsome bite.
"Do you remember that incident with Obadiah McLeary's cow? Of course, that was before Anne arrived - I always thought she settled him down good and hard from the moment they met. One of them instant things - love at first sight, those romantic young ones call it these days, but it wasn't anything so flighty if you ask me." Mrs Lynde nodded vigorously. "Oh, I know Anne had her own ideas, but she was fooling herself all along, wasn't she? Just needed to go to college and feel she'd had a try at the high life, that was all, and then she was happy to go with our Gilbert. He never wavered, of course. He knew his mind from the first. Like his father, that one."
She met Marilla's glare with a knowing look, and rocked back in her chair, surveying the scene in the garden with satisfaction. "Well, I'm blessed if the pair of them don't look even more in love than they did when they was courting. And sillier, too."
In the garden, Gilbert was thinking how beautiful Anne looked with her hair swathed around her like the autumn sunsets over Ingleside. His concentration only lapsed for a second, but it was enough: thin hands pelted into his ribs, and a high voice proclaimed, "You're It!"
The boy, mobile features recalling his mother despite the dark hair, was giggling at the other end of the garden by the time Gilbert turned around.
"I'll have my revenge for that, young Walter," he called and set off in pursuit. As he grabbed fruitlessly, dodging first one way and then the other around Anne in an attempt to reach his son, he reflected that he really was getting too old for this kind of thing.
"Father!" protested Walter, "you can tag Mother, too, you know."
"Mother isn't pl-" began Anne, but the rest of her words were smothered by Gilbert's tackle. They landed on the grass with inelegant grunts and lay there, limbs entangled, smiles pushing up the corners of their lips and belying Anne's stern, "Gilbert!"
"My beautiful wife," he murmured into her mouth, before scrambling to his knees and helping her upright.
The delighted laughter of the children reached the parlour, where Marilla, with a small smile, began setting aside biscuits. Mrs Lynde crunched the rest of her cookie and reached for another one. "I always said he was a scamp," she said with satisfaction.